The language of Flowers
by Nibsfics
Summary: Italy, 1865. In a context of wars and reunification of a torn Nation, a young nobleman, Lovino Vargas, who grew up protected by his close Society, will learn that there is more about life than anything he would have imagined.


_Kingdom of Italy, _

_1865._

* * *

><p>Lovino was sat in the fresh, humid grass under a pale autumn sky. He took deep breaths, filling his dry lungs with cold, vivid air as he overlooked the lively city of Firenze. The afternoon had stretched dark behind Lovino's quiet thoughts. He hadn't noticed but the people he could see, seeming small from his spot on a nearby hill, had begun to slow down in the streets; they had begun to fill the smoky taverns and abandon their tasks of the day. Lovino looked at the sky again. Not quite dark yet. Surely the hour couldn't be so late. The young man needed a little more time alone. More time to think.<p>

That morning his Grandfather; his last parent, had passed away from old age. Lovino was left alone in a tattered world, at only 21 years of age, and with two young brothers to look after.

He took his head between his hands, covered his ears, closed his eyes. What was he going to do ? He sure hadn't imagined his youngster years to be this way. But his Mother had died when birthing his youngest brother Feliciano, when Lovino was only 4 years old. He hardly remembered her or her caresses. He didn't remember her voice. But a year later, the army had called his Father to the South, to help pacify the rebellions. He had died far away from his sons. Lovino didn't remember much of him either. He remembered a tall, intimidating man who, Lovino thought, was patient enough with the child that he was. According to a large portrait hanging in the house's sitting room, Lovino looked a lot like him. That was all Lovino could recall from his parents. But he had well known his Grandfather. His grandfather was a good man. He was tall, of great stature, even at an old age. He had been a distinguished aristocrat; at ease with arts, sports, dance and civilities. He had traveled across all of Europe. He had served his Country and his Society, more than necessary, and was loved by all, but by neither as much as by his grandchildren. Lovino remembered his facetious advices about life with a smile. "Lovino mine," he would say, a glass of fine wine in hand, "no matter what choices life brings you, you must remember that two things only are immortal down here on Earth: Love...and good food."

Lovino's smile faded along with the familiar voice in his head. His Grandfather had been a great man. Lovino wondered if he would eventually forget that one voice, too. The thought froze each of his muscles...

But then the sky had started wrapping itself in a purple coat, and Lovino remarked that the shiver which shook his back came from the cold breeze rather than the cold memories. He got up, tried to dry up his breeches by patting them with both hands. Then, with a still damp garment, he mounted his horse and headed home.

He knew the path by heart. About two leagues accross the forest, then run along the pleasant country road which Lovino liked so much for its silence and nice view on the nearby village. Finally the horse's hooves lead its owner to the gates of the Vargas Domain. A little further up the House presented itself, massive, its sand coloured walls beautiful under the violet sky. Home.

Lovino left his horse to the stableman, and passed the front door, putting his gloves off as he walked. He soon found himself in the drawing room, not expecting to find it empty. He stopped his feet in the doorway.

"Feli ?" He called once, twice.

"Good Heavens, where is this child ?" He muttered under his breath.

Of course, Lovino knew where his brother was. Probably had he fled when he had gotten the chance, somewhere in the fields, or deep in the heart of the forest, or some other mysterious place known only to him.

Lovino sighed and took seat at the small desk by the window. The minutes faded into hours, letter after letter, until the young man felt sick of announcing, again and again, the passing of a loved one.

Once again, Lovino took a frugal supper alone, and went to bed early.

.

.

The maid brought Lovino a letter as he was starting his breakfast. The letter, or rather, the short bill he unfolded came from his Godmother. The name signed at the bottom of the sheet sent a wave of warmth to Lovino's heart as he read it. _Yours always, Bess. _For the first time since the morning before, Lovino felt like he could be alright again. Someone would help him. Erzsébet had helped him always. After his Mother's death, she and her husband; Lovino's Godfather Lord Roderich Edelstein, had come to live most of their lives at the Vargas House. The months when Roderich was forced to stay in Austria -where they lived originally, Erzsébet stayed with the boys, and often the Vargas family went to spend long vacation periods at the Héderváry Castle -Erzsébet's family was older and wealthier than her husband's, therefore they lived in her house. She had, however, taken Roderich's name Edelstein.

Lovino remembered Austria and its infinitely green lands, he remembered the snow in winter, and the beauty of his Godparents' sitting room when a fire was lit in the fireplace and Erzsébet read stories to his young brothers. But one day the war had ended, and Firenze was made Italian again. The Austrians, previous owners of all the Northern land, were forced to leave until the People was appeased. Lovino hadn't seen either of his Godfathers in about five years.

Thanksfully, the Italian Nation was settling down at last, and Erzsébet assured Lovino in her letter of their upcoming arrival. She begged him and his brothers to excuse her brief letter, but they had decided to leave Austria the minute they received Lovino's letter the day before - his first reflex had been to inform them and call for help, before dawn, after he had heard of the terrible tidings. Therefore, she disposed only of a few moments to write this bill before engulfing herself into the coach.

It would take them about three days to get to Firenze, Lovino mentally calculated.

Deep in thoughts again, the young man hadn't even touched his food yet when Feliciano appeared at the door. Lovino jumped to his feet, exclaimed in a panicked voice.

"Where have you been ? I've been searching for you !"

Feliciano looked terrible. His face was dark with dirt and scars loomed here and there under the dusty clay. His hair was unmade and his shirt, which he wore alone -without a vest, was just as spoilt and dirty as his face was. Besides, the boy stared at the floor, miserably.

Lovino knew that his brother wouldn't answer, and his guilty look killed every jolt of anger in the eldest's heart. He let out a deep breath, ran a hand through his hair.

"You should go and have a good bath. Hurry, breakfast awaits."

Feliciano nodded swiftly, and disappeared again. When he came back, though failing to appear well put, he at least looked clean. His hair was damp and messy, framing his round, juvenile face where a few bruises did show, more clearly now that the dust was no more.

"Come eat, Feli. You must be famished." Lovino ordered.

His brother's eyes lit up at the softer voice. He rushed to the table, and sat on the other end of the table. Lovino sat again, and waited until his young protégé had calmed his hunger, eyeing him sympathetically above his newspaper.

Finally, Feliciano spoke.

"I'm sorry, brother. I'm really sorry." He hesitated a moment. Lovino waited. "I went to the river."

"In the forest ?"

"Yes. The one that is in the South, where the trees are large and the world is far away."

Lovino nodded. He had nothing to say. He had felt the need to flee as well, and he had no words to ease neither his of his brother's pain.

"I understand." He tried anyway. "But you should have come back for the night. The wind was bitter and I much worried about you. Are you feeling well ?"

"I am. I'm sorry you worried. I felt carried away."

"Well...don't stay out anymore. Plus the forest isn't friendly."

"I must say, it is ! I felt more secure in the roots of the trees than between these walls. I couldn't stay here when Grandpa was-"

Both went silent. A long moment passed before Lovino got up.

"Mr Edelstein is coming to our help. I have much to do. Please don't cause me any more trouble before his arrival." He declared, and turned to leave when Feliciano's eager voice stopped him.

"When will he be here ? Is Lady Erzsébet with him ? Will they stay with us ?"

Lovino felt his chest lift the smallest bit to the happier voice of his brother. Feliciano had always been the joyful one. A flow of memories from their younger, carefree years filled his mind.

"I don't know yet. His wife is with him, in fact she informed me herself of their coming. They should arrive soon I hope, if their journey is safe." He turned and bowed quickly. "If you'll excuse me." Then he left for a heavy day to come.

.

.

The sight of his Godparents changed everything about Lovino's mood. Five years. Their faces were just as he remembered, or perhaps were they a little older. Erzsébet's smile was bright and reassuring. She ran to Lovino's side and took both of his hands in hers, warmly enquiring of his health and well being, of his brother's safety, and assuring him that she would take care of everything. Behind her, Roderich gave away their baggage to the servants. When the coach was cleared he sent it away as well, then he came by his wife's side. He offered a hand to his godson. "Hello, lad. I am glad to glance upon this face again. It's a pity we had to meet again on such mournful times."

"Thank you, Sir. To speak truly, I am relieved to see you here." Lovino answered simply. He led the way into the house.

Roderich and Erzsébet had arrived late in the day, and by the time they were settled dinner was ready.

"How both of you have changed..." Erzsébet wondered, looking at her godsons with visible nostalgia. "Five years...time flees, my boys, I don't know where my youth has gone." She laughed.

"I am so happy to see you again, Lady Erzsébet !" Feliciano chirped. "The house was empty without you !"

"Please, Feli. How many times have I pleaded you to call me Bess ?" She smiled.

Only Feli had been but a boy when he last had laid his eyes upon his Austrian family. Lovino wasn't sure of what his memories were of their life before, when there was people surrounding them, protecting them. Their Grandfather had given them the most he'd be able to give, to the very end, but even with him still around the boys had been forced to learn fast, to grow faster than their years. Erzsébet looked at Lovino and seemed to catch a glimpse of his thoughts. She smiled fondly.

"I hope we can stay long enough. A boy like you should not have to bear such responsabilities."

"Bess, please. We have done all we could. After Felice's death, we..." Roderich started, but was interrupted by his wife.

"Don't mention the past. We're here now. We'll help." She declared firmly, nodding in Lovino's direction.

This statment seemed to please Feliciano, who's spirits were raised from that moment on.

.

.

A sea of black coats tainted the bright grass of the cemetery. Lovino held his brother's shoulder as the Priest recited his speech. But if everyone's eyes were on the coffin, Lovino's gaze belonged to the sky. Deep blue contrasted with the surrounding black, soft clouds appealed to a grim, muddy heart. A mild breeze was in the air, and the trees were losing golden leaves all around the gathered humans. The moment was perfect to say goodbye, and Lovino felt like he alone had noticed, but the beauty of nature hadn't stopped because of a few gloomy humans. He squeezed Feli's shoulder. Now they were alone. Their last relative slowly disappearing underground, the feeling was only so real.

The procession came back in front of the church, people exchanged a few words before departing. Everybody had come. The village, the farmers, even a handful of citizens had left Firenze to pay homage to the well appreciated Old Lord Vargas. People kept coming up to Lovino and Feliciano, expressing their respect and what more. Lovino only wished he could take his brother away. In Feliciano's eyes were all the memories he could never fulfill, and Lovino's heart was broken to feel his young brother so heavy with despair. At last he caught Roderich's gaze, who nodded. So he grasped his brother's hand, and rushed in the direction of the fields.

.

.

Feliciano laughed as they ran, like they were children again, and Lovino laughed too, so happy that he was to escape the crushing blackness and be able to come back to the sorrowful memories that were his alone. His Grandfather didn't belong to any of the villagers, therefore neither did his loss.

The boys eased their path until they were slowly walking along the familiar path. Feli picked a flower on the hill's flank. A buttercup. Lovino eyed it, sighed a giggle.

"Buttercups are childish flowers, Feli."

Feliciano glanced inquisitively. "How so ?"

"I don't know. I read it somewhere. But it makes sense I believe. These are small and yellow and round. They feel...candid."

Feliciano laughed. "You are funny, Lovino."

He then picked another flower; a daisy.

"Are daisies mature enough, Lord Vargas ?" He asked, cockingly.

Lovino frowned. "I couldn't tell. I wouldn't say they are. Aren't hill flowers wild anyway ? Very uncivilized."

"You act like you know much, but I suspect you don't, brother."

"Respect your elders, boy." Lovino teased.

The Vargas House was in sight when Feliciano asked.

"How does it feel, Lovi ?...To be the Master of the house ?"

"I've been the Master for a long time...only now it is official."

Feliciano looked in deep thought.

"What torments your mind, Feli ?"

Feli's eyes met Lovino's.

"I'm worried about you."

Lovino looked away, honestly embarrassed that his hardly out of boyhood little brother would worry about him. "I will be fine."

"Will you ?" Feliciano insisted.

"I will. Besides, you will be by my side, will you not ?" He asked, peering at his brother.

The boy smiled brightly. "I will." He exclaimed.

They were crossing the gardens when Lovino noticed an unknown man further down. He stopped, surprised.

Feliciano stopped a few steps further, looking back at his brother. "Lovino ?" He enquired.

"Keep walking, Feli. I will join you later." Lovino said, and walked towards the stranger.

As he approached, Lovino felt more certain of not knowing that man. He appeared rather tall, quite muscular, and turned his back to Lovino as he seemed to be focusing on something on the ground.

"Excuse me, Sir ?" Lovino called.

The stranger peered above his shoulder, then unbended and turned to face his interlocutor.

"Yes ?" He asked.

Lovino was taken aback. "Uhm. Sir, may I ask, why are you standing in my gardens ? State your name at once."

The man smiled warmly. "Are you the Master of the House ? I shall ask for your pardon, Sir, I was hired this morning and therefore couldn't meet you before."

"Hired ? I didn't hire you !" Lovino exclaimed.

"No you didn't, Sir."

"Then who did ?"

"The gardener, Sir."

Lovino didn't understand a word that this strange man with that strange accent was saying.

"Your name, may I ask ?" He inquired again, exasperated.

"My name is Antonio Fernández, Sir. I was hired as a help by your gardener. The domain truly is wide, Sir."

"...if you'll excuse me." Lovino concluded, and turned away, in search of his gardener.

He found him in the winter garden.

"Mr Adnan ?" Lovino called.

"Ah, Young Master Vargas ! Are you back already ?"

"Yes, I..." Lovino almost asked his questions, but remembered his good manners at the last moment. "...haven't seen you at the funeral ? Were you feeling ill ?"

"I was not, I thank you. I was...ceremonials aren't for me, d'you understand ? I much prefered to mourn alone in my garden. This feels...more truthful."

"I understand, yes. Mr Adnan, I must say I found a man outside who claimed you hired him as a help. Would you be so kind to explain ?"

Mr Adnan laughed. The Turkish man's laughter was frank and rough, just as loud as his speaking voice. He had been a friend of Lovino's Grandfather, and a part of the Vargas Domain for as long as Lovino could remember. Lovino felt that this old man would call him _Young Master Vargas _for the rest of his life.

"Yes, I hired him. Your Grandfather had granted me the right to hire someone if I felt I needed help. See, Young Master, I am getting old, and your lands are vast. This fellow is young and strong, and I judge he looks truthworthy."

"Where does he come from ?"

"I didn't ask. Spain, I'd assume."

Lovino didn't understand the way that man was perceiving priorities. Mr Adnan seemed to come from a very different place. But then again, the Domain was full of people the Old Vargas had helped at some point of their lives. Here were people from every horizons, every situation known to man. Lovino's Grandfather had travelled most of his life, to civilized Nations and unknown lands. If there was one aspect of his person that his circle accused, it was this one: Lord Vargas saw no distinctions between people. Therefore, Lovino actually wasn't taken aback by the sudden appearance of another stranger.

"Very well," He said. "if you trust he will do good. I leave you to your plants." He bowed swiftly, and retraced his path. On the way, he found the new gardener.

"Have you found Mr Adnan ?"

Lovino stopped his feet. Such familiarity for someone at his service. "I have. I beg you to pardon me, I didn't know he had hired you. I welcome you to my service."

_To my service. Don't forget it, Spaniard. _He finished silently.

The man smiled. "I thank you, Sir. I know I will like it here."

Lovino entered his house just before his Godparents came back from the funeral. The evening stretched on, in silence and contemplation, sitting by the fireplace, under the sympathetic gaze of the newly arrived guests. Lovino, for his part, kept his eyes over his young, grieved brother.

.

.

The following day, when the sun was high and bright in the sky, Mr Edelstein called for Lovino to come to the small chamber where he had installed his temporary office. Lady Erzsébet was present: she had always taken part into her husband's affairs, more importantly when her relatives were involved.

"Dear child, are you feeling well ?" Roderich asked when Lovino invited himself in.

"I am well, I thank you." Lovino answered politely.

Erzsébet's gaze let him know that she had caught the lie, yet neither of them had the nerve to speak up.

"I hope you will not take my questions as inopportune, please believe that I merely need ask for your own interests." Roderich continued gravely. "Son, do you understand the role which falls on your life, now ?"

"I do, Sir." Lovino answered in a small voice, lowering his gaze. He only understood too much.

"Lovino Dear, you are the Master of this house, now. But be sure that we will help you as much as needed to hold this responsability." the Lady said.

Lovino's pride spoke for himself. "That will not be necessary. Thank you for you solicitude."

"My Dear, you are so young still !" She exclaimed. Her husband met her gaze, attempting to calm her down.

"Lovino, I have another question, of same gravity, if not higher."

Lovino nodded. "Please speak."

"Where is your brother, now ?"

Lovino's throat felt suddenly tight. He hurriedly sat down in front of his Godfather. Erzsébet was standing next to her husband.

"Feli must not know." The young Vargas warned. He heard his voice come out a lot darker than he'd intended.

Both people in front of him nodded.

"I don't know. I haven't received a letter in days, I have lost his trail, and I fear the worst. He hasn't answered to my recent letter either, about the doleful news. I fear he hasn't gotten it at all, if he has moved somehow."

Lovino stopped his speech, and observed his Godparents for an answer, hopefully an advice. They looked very serious, if concerned.

Lovino's young brother Romeo had left the family house for such a long time, Lovino wasn't sure he was to ever come back. At such a young age - barely nineteen, he had joined the Risorgimento's army, if it even was an army, Lovino wasn't so sure. Romeo had always been a reckless child, passionate, stubborn. Lovino had only begun to worry when the boy had stopped answering to his letters. Romeo's letters were never long, but they, at least, were. Now Lovino had no way to contact his brother, and protecting Feliciano from the truth grew more delicate every passing day.

"And all these uprisings in the South..." Lovino heard Roderich murmur under his breath. His wife laid a hand on his shoulder.

"They say the Prussians are helping them. Perhaps our boy will be protected from actual conflict ?" She tried, in a soft voice she hoped comforting.

Roderich shaked his head lowly. "This only means the battles are getting serious, Bess."

Lovino stared at the ground, hoping for the nightmare to stop soon. Everything fell on his shoulders at a terrible time. What if the war was brought to the North ? But that couldn't be. Firenze was Italian already, and the Austrians sure weren't willing to take it back anymore. The true battle laid in the South still, where it had been for years, Italian rebels forever fighting the Catholic Church over Roma; the city of all origins. Lovino pictured his young, reckless brother thrown in the middle of this deadly war. And for what purpose ? Lovino wasn't certain that his people could win in the end, after so long a battle. The losses had been many.

Roderich reajusted his neatly arranged hair with one hand, a sign that he was coming back to his usual placid self.

"I will see what I can do." He said. "For now, we must discuss financial issues."

Lovino had learnt long ago that, when Mr Edelstein spoke in that voice, he had to make sure his back was straight and his mind was focused.

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><p><em><strong>Guys ! I am looking for a beta reader for this one. I've been searching for a while but, in lack of a positive response, I'll just try it out this way !<strong>_

_** I might readjust this chapter in the future. I've worked my hardest, like I re-wrote and re-wrote and re-wrote this chapter so much I don't even know if it makes sense anymore, everything is just mixed in my mind haha~**_

_**IF ANYBODY HAS ANY INTEREST IN STORIES FROM THAT AREA and is willing to a **__**help **__**bit, well it would be more than welcome. English isn't my first language, therefore no matter how hard I try, I don't think I will make it flowy enough, let alone realistic. Speaking of which, any information/correction about Historical context, Etiquette, Habits (habits please!) in Italy in the 19th Century is also welcome.**_

_**This can be a long-ish fic if I take my time and manage to make it right.**_

_**Anyways. I am very excited about it. I've been turning this story in my mind for ages, but I always felt I wouldn't be able to write it.**_

_**I will try anyway c: .**_

_**Thank you for reading this chapter, and this little note if you did ! xx  
><strong>_


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